


Onanism

by BookishCas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, D/s undertones, Embarrassed Dean, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Sex Toys, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishCas/pseuds/BookishCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean really likes touching himself (especially when he has the luxury of time and toys), but he's embarrassed to let Cas find out. </p><p>Alternatively, Cas finds that he really enjoys watching Dean touch himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Onanism

**Author's Note:**

> This work is best enjoyed while listening to "I Want You" by The Beatles (found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mW6G3nh5S3I).

Dean blushed despite himself, and then scowled at his own absurdity.

It wasn’t like there was anybody observing, he reasoned with himself. Nobody was around to see him dig out the shoebox hidden carefully away in his closet. There were no observers as he fumbled the lid off, flushing further as he examined the carefully organized contents of the box.

He hadn’t been able to do this do this when they were on the road all the time. He and Sammy were too mobile, too busy, too _around each other all the time_ for him to be able to get away with anything beyond a brisk jerk in the shower.  
  
Dean traced his fingers over the toys in the box, eyes closing as he thought about which one he wanted to use. Each one was well loved, and had wrung many an orgasm from him. Since he’d been at the bunker, since he’d been in one spot for so long, he’d amassed quite a shameful collection.  
  
He selected a silicon vibrator with a flared base, and a shape intended to rub deliciously against his prostate.

It wasn’t that Dean _needed_ to do this. Ever since he’d swallowed his pride and fear and slight internalized homophobia and told Castiel “ _Hey, I maybe kinda like you and maybe kinda want you to bang me on every available surface in whatever room we happen to be in if that’s cool with you_ ” his sex life has been far more than enough to keep him satisfied.

Dean just _really liked_ touching himself.  
  
He stripped languidly, folding his clothing carefully and setting them next to the bed. When Cas was around, clothing was always discarded far more hastily. However, when Dean was flying solo he preferred to take it slower, to let the anticipation build and build, up and up until his nerves were singing with need before he even touched himself properly.

Flicking on some music (because touching himself alone in the silence was way more shameful than touching himself to the dulcet tones of the Beatles crooning out “I Want You”) Dean situated himself on the bed and dropped the toy and a bottle of lube next to him. He would ignore them for now. He reclined, supine, and stretched languidly.

His hands slid down to his nipples, almost lazily stroking them into hardened peaks.  He opened his legs, his growing erection making the change in position necessary. Biting his lip, he twisted his own nipple in his fingers until the feeling of pleasure/pain made him whine. He continued to ignore his erection.  
  
He licked a finger and smoothed it over his nipple, the coolness of his saliva on his abused nipple making him hiss. His other hand slid down over his ribs, palming his hip before he let it rest low on his abdomen, teasing himself gently. Rewetting his finger, he paid the same attention to his other nipple.  
  
Dean’s thoughts were so simple when he touched himself. When he slid his own hands down his body, they commanded all of his attention, leaving nothing for his worries and his fears and his insecurities. When Dean touched himself, he could relax and just luxuriate in the sensation.  
  
The hand resting on his abdomen traveled low, skirting his cock to cradle his testicles. He massaged them gently, sighing contentedly at the sensation. His toes curled, and the hand that had been paying diligent attention to his nipples was again moistened before it, too, reached between his legs. He stroked a finger down his perineum, shuddering at the sensation, before circling his hole.  
  
Dean’s lips parted, his breath coming just the slightest bit harder. He moved his hand from his testicles to gently encircle his cock. He pumped it gently, once, twice, as he groped with his other hand for the lube.  
  
Uncapping it, he removed his hand from his dick so he could coat his fingers generously. He spread his legs further, knees hiked up and feet pressed into the mattress. He used one hand to spread himself gently before pressing a lube coated finger to the tight ring of muscle. He whimpered.  
  
Gently, carefully, he pushed a fingertip inside, gasping. Dean tilted his head back, exposing the column of his neck. Slowly, gradually, he relaxed. He wiggled the finger, panting at the feel of it, before pushing it in the rest of the way. Dean forced himself to stop, to relax against the slight burn. His heart raced, his exertion raising a pretty blush all over his skin.  
  
Dean worked another finger in, whining at the intrusion even as he threw his head back at the sensation.  
  
He crooked his fingers, searching, looking, feeling. _There_.

He groaned, long and low, and avoided that spot. If he continued with that way, the party would be over before it even began.  
  
Dean jerked himself, once, twice, stopped.

He slid a third finger in.  The stretch was intoxicating. Dean fucking loved this, his slightly sore nipples, the stretched out feeling in his ass, the music harmonizing with the blissed out thoughts in his head.  
  
He removed his fingers, biting back a whimper at how _empty_ that left him feeling. He needed to be stretched, _needed_ to be filled before he lost it.  
  
He grabbed the dildo, and applied a generous amount of lube. He examined the size of the toy. Even with his preparation, it was going to be a bit of a stretch.  
  
Dean nearly salivated at the prospect.  
  
He positioned the tip of the toy at his hole, and sighed at the contrast of the cool lube against his overheated skin. Slowly, gently, he pushed the sleek toy in.  
  
The stretch was _glorious_. Dean panted, shifting on the bed as he slowly pressed the toy deeper inside of himself. The feeling that he craved, the feeling of being filled, of being whole, was obscene and sensual and _perfect._

Once the toy was in, he allowed himself time to acclimatize to the size. Every shift of his muscles made the toy move deliciously inside of him. He twisted the base, groaning at the texture of the toy as it stretched and rubbed against him.  
  
And then he remembered. _Vibrator.  
  
_ His fingers scrabbled on the base, searching for the button. When he found it, his eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the sudden, _focused_ stimulation.  
  
His eyes fluttered closed, tiny whines escaping from his mouth as he was swamped with sensation. His free hand grabbed at the comforter, while the one on the dildo carefully rocked it in and out of his body. His muscles contracted, relaxed.  
  
He directed the dildo at his prostate on the next push and nearly blacked out. He was openly whimpering at this point, the soft noises having long turned into loud, needy gasps and sighs. His bottom lip was held captive between his teeth, the feel of his canines depressing the soft flesh allowing Dean to keep himself from completely losing his mind from the sensation. A bead of precome leaked from his neglected cock.  
  
There’s movement that’s not his own on the bed. A dip in the mattress to his right alerts Dean to the knowledge that he’s definitely not alone in the room anymore. His eyes snap open, and he locks eyes with Cas.  
  
Cas, who looks completely _wrecked_.

His lips are parted, eyes fully dilated as he drinks in the sight of Dean greedily. Dean flushes at the scrutiny.  
  
“Cas, uh, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t… this isn’t what.. okay maybe it is, but it’s not because, because you’re not enough, or anything, because you are! You are. I just…”  
  
The vibrations hammering at his prostate are not making this botched explanation easier. He fumbles with the dildo still situated inside of him, simultaneously trying to pull it out and find the button that will stop the intoxicating vibrations.  
  
A hand grips his wrist before he can manage. Dean’s eyes widen.  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
 Dean bites back a desperate noise when Cas gently pushes the vibrator back inside, flush against his prostate.  
  
“Keep going.”  
  
Dean’s eyes snap back to Cas, confused. He wants Dean to… continue?  
  
Cas folds his hands in his lap and observes Dean with quiet intensity. The message is loud and clear.  
  
 _Touch yourself, Dean. Touch yourself while I watch you fall apart._  
  
Dean flicks his eyes away, to the wall. He can’t do this.

Grasping the base of the vibrator, he slides it slowly out, before pushing it back in.

This is insane, shameful, he can’t… Cas can’t possibly like this, can’t possibly be _okay_ with him using this silicon facsimile.

In. Out. Twist the base, so the texture of the toy strokes deliciously at his insides.

He’s biting back his noises, now, embarrassed. The pleasure assaulting his senses is at war with the humiliation that’s creeping its way up his spine.

In. Out. Bite back the cry that threatens to escape when the vibrations assault his prostate.

The bed dips again.  
  
“Cas?”

Dean’s teeth worried at his lip. He knew it, knew that Cas wouldn’t be okay with this, knew that he was right to keep his shameful box a secret. He grimaced.

Fingers under his jaw had him looking up. Blue eyes assessed him hotly.

“Dean Winchester, if you’re going do an improper job of it, _I’ll_ fuck you with this-“ he tapped on the base of the dildo, the additional percussion doing crazy things with Dean’s insides, “myself.”

Dean blinked. “What?” he gasped out, mental faculties shot from the stimulation of the toy.

Cas pushed Dean’s hands away from himself.

“I said,” he grabbed the base of the toy and began to ease it out. “That if you were going to insist on doing this poorly, I would have to intercede.” The toy was now mostly out, only just barely caught on the inside of Dean’s rim.  
  
In one smooth motion, Cas slammed it home, hitting Dean’s prostate perfectly.  
  
Dean let out a choked off shout, stars flashing behind his eyes at the sensation. Cas repeated the movement, again and again, and Dean twisted his hands in the sheets under the onslaught. Cas pressed a kiss to the inside of Dean’s knee.

“ _Fuck,_ angel,” Dean gasped. He was losing his goddamn mind. “Love your fucking, _uh_ , mouth, and hands, all over me. Oh, _please_ , right , right there. Never stop, Cas, please never stop. I need your touch, need you- _ah!_ I fucking _love_ you, Cas,”  
  
Cas continued to slam the toy into him, his mouth quirking as Dean babbled. He’d never seen Dean looking so strung out, so undone, so _needy_.

Cas pulled himself further up the bed to kiss Dean, never stopping with the toy. Dean’s hands left the sheets to fist in his hair, deepening the kiss. Dean bit at Castiel’s mouth, out of his mind with pleasure.

“Cas, _Please_.”

“Oh, Dean,” said Cas, his voice wrapping around Dean like velvet. “You’re _beautiful_ like this. Stretched out, incoherent with pleasure-”His voice dropped lower on the last word. He leaned close to nibble on Dean’s earlobe. “ _Beautiful._ You must have spread yourself out so carefully,” Cas has to palm himself at this point, caught up in thoughts of Dean touching himself, of Dean carefully stretching himself for the toy. He caught sight of the box, still lying open in front of the closet, and the soft smile on his face widens into a grin.

“ _Oh_.”

He looked down at Dean, who’s still whining at every withdraw of the toy and gasping every time Cas shoves it back in.

 “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Cas asked, voice almost reverent.

Dean looked at him, flush returning with a vengeance as he nods jerkily. His nerves are on fire, and Castiel’s voice is a hot caress searing along his veins.

“You took your time, too. Didn’t you, Dean?” When he didn’t receive a response, he ground the toy in mercilessly.

Dean keened.

“Yes! Fuck, Cas, yes, always do, always slow. Always thinking of, ah, of you, too, and the way you look at me when you’re fucking into me, Cas, _please,_ _I’m so close!”_

Cas groaned at the bolt of heat that permeated his belly at Dean’s words, and reached out a hand. He gripped Dean tight, and stroked.

Once, twice, stopped.

“Come for me, Dean,” Castiel urged, voice low and hot, like molten chocolate.

One more push of the toy and Dean’s fucking _gone_ , swearing, come splattering over his stomach and over Cas’ hands. Cas continues to drive the toy inside of him through his orgasm, _after_ his orgasm. Dean whines at the almost too much sensation. “ _Cas_ ,” he whines.

“Shh, Dean,” Cas hushes him, and continues to move the toy inside of him. Dean whimpers, the overstimulation wreaking havoc on his ability to think coherently. He wriggles under Cas’ grip. Mouth open, fingers gripping and pulling at the sheets so tightly he was bound to rip them, legs splayed and head thrown back. He looked _breathtaking_.

“Cas, angel, _please,_ ”

Cas chuckles and relents, switching the toy off before drawing it slowly out. Dean sighs, stretched out, satiated. He threads his hands through Cas’ hair and draws him down for a tender kiss before pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“I thought you wouldn’t… I thought you wouldn’t be okay, with me, and… and this.” Dean said lamely.

Cas grinned rather salaciously at that, his teeth flashing white.

“Dean,” he said, and then trailed off. He gestured toward the box that Dean had kept hidden for so long. “The only thing I’m not ‘okay’ with is that you kept this from me for so long. We could have…”

He kissed Dean languidly, taking care to make sure Dean could feel his arousal against his thigh. “Trust me, Dean Winchester, I couldn’t possibly be _more_ okay. Now,” Cas’ eyes tracked to the box laying innocently in front of the closet door. “Why don’t you tell me about the rest of these?”

 


End file.
